The Greatest Trick
by elysynos
Summary: A mysterious death, a slew of unsolved murders, and a mystery that spans both Earth and Space. The Gundam pilots rally to save one of their own, realizing too late that he isn't the one that needs saving after all. *Chapters 9 & 10 now up!*
1. Recast

**Notes, disclaimers and other crap: **

~Firstly and most importantly, **neither Gundam Wing nor its characters belong to me**. As much as I'd like them to, they don't. **They are the property of Bandai, Sunrise etc. and all rights belong to them. **

~Secondly, the story idea is in fact, **MY idea.** Came to me while I was reading _le joueur généreux (The Generous Gambler) _by Charles Baudelaire one night and I just couldn't shake it no matter how hard I tried. This story began as a One-Shot oh so long ago, then I realized how utterly and completely complicated I was making it and decided to continue it as a full-length story. It is a work in progress, and I am working on this as well as my much more lighthearted GW fic, The Pirate King. I go back and forth between the two, depending on my mood.

~Thirdly, this is an Alternate Universe fic. Not so AU as in I've taken the GW boys and dropped them in smack dab in the center of Middle Earth (oooh, idea), but AU enough that you'll notice blaringly obvious facts that don't quite follow up on what happened in the original canon (and that don't really exist in "real life" either). However, I have done my best to stay (somewhat) true to the timeline that EW left us with; I've just tweaked the events that could have transpired and placed the boys into a fantasy world that is interwoven with the canon world. I've also stayed **almost** entirely true to the storylines that_ Episode Zero_ set up for the young boys; I've just interpreted them in my own way to make them work for this story.

Please leave me constructive criticism if you so feel the need. I'm working on actual fiction in my "real-life" when I'm not in classes or working. Writing fanfiction is just a fun way for me to unwind and have fun, so any constructive criticism on my style etc is greatly appreciated. I will take it and use it wisely in future fanfics and fiction alike.

Now that all that is said, I promise to not put any more disclaimers at the beginnings of the rest of the chapters so read and enjoy!

With all my love,

Ash

**The Greatest Trick**

**AC 201, October 9- Great Basin Desert, New Mexico, United States of America**

The last rays of the sun were just beginning to fade over the mountains to the west. Night came swiftly in the desert, bringing with it a noticeable chill in the air.

The howl of a not too distant coyote echoed off eerie rock formations that rose high into the dark sky.

From the base of one grouping of rocks came a slight sound of rocks clattering against stone and dirt. Had anyone been standing in this desolate place they probably would have dismissed it as the scurrying of a desert creature, a small lizard or rodent perhaps, and moved on.

A pause in the silent night, then another barely discernable rustle, a slight crunch of what could only be rubber against rock and sand. A figure, barely visible against the dark crevices of the tall rocks, crouched motionless. After a few moments of silence the figure stood, covered in the dust of the desert. It breathed in deeply the rapidly cooling night air, brushed dust from its shoulders and pants, and crouched once again. Its hands groped for a moment, digging deep into a crevice at the base of the formation where it had apparently emerged. Another pause and then the figure pulled out an old military issued blanket and a worn backpack.

With practiced skill the figure quickly flapped dust off of the blanket and rolled it into a tight bundle. Slender, calloused fingers worked the buckles and straps of the military pack, pulling one bundle from it before securing the wrapped blanket inside and thoroughly cinching the pack closed once again. The figure unraveled the removed item and shrugged the long, black duster over its clothes. Using both hands it reached up and pulled a hood over its head. In a swift motion, it stood, slinging the heavy pack onto its back, before turning to look out over the desert expanse. Sharp, night-darkened eyes roved over every dip and rise on the horizon, the head tilted ever so slightly as if listening for the faint sound of something that did not belong in the desert night.

After a few moments of perfect stillness the cry of another coyote rang clear and mournfully into the night. As if the sound were its signal the figure stepped out from the safety of the towering rock and disappeared into the darkness, heading west.


	2. Reacquaint

**October 11-Space Colony Cluster L4, Colony L4-165-21-10**

The sound of laughter and waves splashing on the shore brought a smile to the blonde man's lips. He could feel the warmth of the sun beating down on his face and relished its refreshing touch. It had been much too long since the last time he was able to relax. He took in a deep breath, fully prepared to taste the saltiness of the sea air, and was surprised when the only scents to invade his senses were of leather and stale cologne. He let out a small sigh and slowly opened his light blue eyes. Instead of palm trees and sand he was met with the depressing view of the inside of a boardroom. A long, mahogany table stretched out in front of him, empty leather chairs on both sides. Directly in front of the man sat several stacks of folders, filled with documents of various subjects concerning his family's business. The walls were a monotonous white, broken up by a picture window that ran the length of the room and gave a gorgeous view of the sprawling city outside.

Quatre Raberba Winner, heir to the Winner fortune and the family's corporation sighed again and rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

'This is getting ridiculous' he thought to himself. He could not remember the last time he had been on vacation. His life since the wars had been an endless parade of board meetings, interviews, TV appearances and speeches.

The second war had ended, what, five years ago? Quatre shook his head in disbelief at the thought.

He stood up and walked over to the window. The day cycle on the colony was drawing to a close and the simulated sunlight was mimicking the setting of the sun by fading slowly. Quatre looked out over the vast city and traced its faint curve up and around, the distinctive trait of all of the space colonies. He glanced up and could see the rest of the city suspended above him. No matter how hard the designers tried, they were unable to disguise the fact that the cities were all syndicated reproductions of Earth.

Earth.

The word alone brought a smile to the man's tired face. He relished in the idea of traveling there again one day soon.

Quatre refocused his gaze and caught his own reflection in the picture window. He had grown quite a bit in the past five years. His shoulders were broader, his stature well muscled despite the fact that he was not nearly as physically active as he had once been. The life of one of the richest men in the colonies did not offer as much time to go to the gym, as one would have imagined.

His chin was more defined and stubble was beginning to show, a product of his being unable to shave that morning before his endless day of meetings began at six a.m. He was also over half a foot taller than he had been in 196, during the Eve War. Back then he was definitely the shrimp of the group, now he stood at the height of 5'8". The expertly tailored black suit fit his body impeccably and made him an imposing figure despite his short stature.

His eyes, still an impossibly light cornflower blue, had not lost their kindness despite the dark circles that surrounded them. Quatre turned away from his reflection, disliking the image he saw portrayed there.

No longer was he, Quatre Raberba Winner, the fifteen-year-old fighter pilot who had just saved both the Earth and the Colonies from self-destructing in pointless wars. No longer was he the innocent young man who had piloted the Gundam Sandrock for peace.

War had a tendency of changing things.

Now he was a grown man who spent his days in boardrooms and offices fighting an entirely different kind of war. The war between his company and other rival companies that were vying to be the most powerful mining industry in the L4 region of space. It was an exhausting battle; one Quatre was forced to fight daily.

He shot one last glance over his shoulder at the fading light outside before striding back to the mahogany table. He scooped the stack of files into his hands, dropped them into his open briefcase and latched the case shut. If he hurried he could make it back to his condominium in time for dinner. No sneaking into his vast kitchen after hours and upsetting the staff tonight, he hoped.

That would be a first in a long time, Quatre thought with a wry smile.

He gripped the brown leather briefcase tightly in one hand and switched the overhead lights off as he strode through the doorway. His mind remained set on memories of the past and a small smile played at the corner of the young man's lips.

Oh how he'd love to see Earth once again.

Quatre stepped out of the elevator and into the lavishly decorated lobby as the polished steel doors slid open. His eyes expertly scanned the room, picking out his bodyguards from the crowd of people.

Why the hell an ex-Gundam pilot needed bodyguards was beyond Quatre. However, his attorneys had insisted he hire qualified men to protect him, in the case that one of the rival companies attempted to do something less than businesslike. Or worse, if someone seeking revenge for Quatre's war crimes took matters into their own hands.

Quatre had trusted none but his own men and had elected four of his closest Maguanac troops to be his personal bodyguards. They understood that Quatre was capable of protecting himself, but felt honored to be chosen nonetheless.

Quatre nodded to the four men casually and began towards the front entrance of the building. He was stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes caught a glimpse of a very familiar face in the crowd.

Almond-shaped eyes met Quatre's and they widened in sudden recognition.

The two men stared at each other across the room for a moment, then a small smile showed on the lips of the Asian man. Quatre's own mouth widened in a smile and the two made their way across the room towards each other.

"Chang Wufei, imagine running into you here!" Quatre said as he shook the taller man's hand. "What brings you to Winner Corp?"

Wufei gripped Quatre's hand in his own and shook it strongly, placing his left hand on his old friend's shoulder and squeezing it companionably.

"Would you be surprised if I told you I was here purely for pleasure?"

"I'd say you were lying through your teeth." Quatre said, a humored smile showing on his face.

Wufei returned the grin.

"You've caught me. In fact, I'm honestly here to see you."

For the first time Quatre noticed that Wufei was not dressed casually. The Asian man's hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, longer than it had been during the wars, but otherwise unchanged. He had also grown considerably over the past several years. He stood two inches taller than Quatre and his military style outfit did little to conceal the well-toned muscles underneath.

His olive green dress shirt was tucked neatly into his pressed black slacks. A black tie was fitted snugly around the collar of the shirt. He wore a lightweight black, brown and green jacket with the Preventers symbol on the right shoulder and had a black messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

"It appears as though you're here on business," said Quatre

"Unfortunately, yes."

Wufei's eyes darted from side to side before settling again on Quatre.

"Could we maybe go somewhere with a little more privacy?"

Quatre nodded.

"Of course, I was just headed back to my place for supper. Care to join me for a meal and then we can discuss whatever it is you've come for in my personal office?"

"That'd be nice." Wufei said, sighing before continuing. "I apologize for this, Quatre, arriving unannounced and all. But Une wanted this kept under wraps for now."

"I was wondering why exactly you were in space again. Preventers' business?"

"What else?"

Quatre smiled knowingly. Wufei had been in touch with him intermittently over the past five years, sending an occasional message when he had the time and privacy. He knew the Asian man rarely ever had a chance to travel for anything other than business.

"Let's be on our way then" Quatre said, placing a hand on Wufei's shoulder and guiding him back towards the entrance. "And don't mind the four men following us, they're with me."

Wufei shot a quick glance over his left shoulder at the plain clothed guards that were discreetly following he and Quatre.

"Maguanacs? I thought I recognized the one."

"Rashid's eldest son, Raoul. I preferred to have them over your typical hired guard."

"Don't blame you. But do you, Quatre Winner, really need protection?" Wufei raised an eyebrow in a comical manner that caused Quatre to stifle a laugh. The blonde man coughed instead and continued speaking.

"I do believe these white-collared types underestimate my past."

"I'll say," Wufei's lips turned up in a wry smile. "I wonder how many of them know the sleeping lion that lies beneath that business suit and kind smile of yours."

This time Quatre couldn't help but laugh.

The two men continued their casual conversation as they walked the city streets towards Quatre's condominium. However, Quatre felt a dull, throbbing sensation in his chest, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a very long time. He had a growing suspicion that Wufei's business on L4 was much more complicated and dangerous than the Asian man was letting on.


	3. Realize

Wufei had to suppress a whistle of astonishment as he followed Quatre into his private office on the thirty-ninth floor of the condominiums. Quatre's expansive suite took up the entire top floor of the building and offered an impressive view of the colony through the floor to ceiling reinforced glass windows.

The smaller blonde man made his way across the room ahead of Wufei and sank gratefully into an overstuffed fabric lounge-chair.

"Forgive me, but I have had a very long day." Quatre said, a look of relief crossing his face. He motioned with his left hand to a similar chair facing his.

Wufei glanced around the room as he walked toward Quatre. The room was every bit the office of a white-collared businessman. A large mahogany table sat in the center of the room, an antique relic from an older civilization on Earth. Countless other antiques and oddities sat on tables and bookshelves. He made a mental note to closely examine some of the more prominent titles that stood out to him on the shelf at a later time. If he was seeing correctly Quatre owned books that dated back over a millennia!

He settled into the comfortable forest green chair across from Quatre and his eyes fell immediately onto a picture frame on a mahogany end table between them.

"Is this?"

"The last time the five of us were together? Yes." Quatre leaned forward and handed the Chinese man the framed picture.

Five young men, boys really, stood in the foreground of the photograph, a beautiful young woman standing in their midst.

"This is from the July Fourth celebrations in America." Wufei remembered, smiling down at the six faces in the photograph. The five ex-Gundam pilots had been guests at the Earth Sphere United Nations celebration, a night Wufei fondly recalled. That was in 197, over four years previous.

Relena Peacecraft, Vice Foreign Minister, and diplomat between the Earth and the colonies was standing in the middle of the photograph dressed in a beautiful blue cocktail gown. Her crystal blue eyes were bright and her smile lit up her entire face.

Heero Yuy, the ex-pilot of Wing Zero, stood at her side, his right arm linked casually in her own. A rare smile graced his features and his Prussian blue eyes held a twinkle in them. He, like the other pilots, was dressed impeccably in a black tux and tie. His left arm was slung companionably over the shoulder of a rather exuberant Duo Maxwell.

Wufei laughed as he took in Duo. The pilot from L2 was double fisting two pints of beer and holding them up in salute to the photographer, his signature lopsided grin plastered on his face.

Trowa Barton and Quatre stood at Relena's other side. Trowa had one hand around Relena's waist and the other on Quatre's shoulder. A small smile played on the lips of the tall man, and his light brown hair was brushed slightly out of his face, revealing both of his startling emerald green eyes. Quatre had a wide, sweet smile on his face, his cornflower blue eyes shining up at Wufei from beneath blonde bangs.

"You've gotten taller." Wufei said, inspecting the picture.

Quatre chuckled.

"We've all changed quite a bit, I think. Look at you. I believe that's a smile on your face."

Wufei took in his own appearance. He stood on Duo's left side, slightly away from the braided pilot in an effort to avoid having beer spilled on his tux. Despite the fact, there was a smile on his face and his right hand was on Duo's shoulder, possibly to stop the Deathscythe's pilot from raising his arms any higher and completely tumbling the contents of the pints onto the floor.

"A bit different from the war, no? I doubt I would have let that crazy Maxwell within ten yards of me then. Especially not with beer in his hands."

This elicited an undignified snort from the businessman.

"Duo Maxwell…" Wufei took in the man's smiling face and felt a familiar pang within his chest.

"It's hard to believe he's…gone."

Wufei raised his eyes away from the photograph and looked at Quatre. Tears shone in the blonde man's eyes, threatening to spill.

"Now, don't you get going, Quatre. It's been over a year since the accident." Wufei said. Despite his words, the Asian man was fighting back his own desire to cry.

"It's just, countless years of him surviving on the streets, surviving the Maxwell Church fire, Gundam training, and two wars…doesn't a motorcycle accident seem ironic?"

"That man was a walking, talking, laughing irony." Wufei said. "But Quatre, as much as I'd love to discuss memories right now…"

"Right, your Preventer business."

Quatre sat up a bit in his chair and wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his hand.

"Well, ironic we were just discussing Maxwell…" Wufei bit his bottom lip. How the hell did he explain this case to Quatre without giving the man false hope or sending him into hysterics?

"Wufei, just spit it out." Quatre was looking at the dark-haired man with concern in his bright eyes.

"Uhm…" Wufei cleared his throat. Damn! This was hard to think about, much less discuss with Quatre. Wufei had spent the entire shuttle trip just thinking of ways to bring up the case to the Arabian man. Hell, he had spent the entire trip to the L4 Colony cluster just trying to convince himself that the files in his messenger bag were not some sort of sick joke played on him by a demented rookie in his department.

But no, the facts were straightforward and undeniable.

And that picture.

Wufei couldn't deny what was right in front of his face. He was hoping Quatre would take it a little better than he had when he first saw the case files.

Here goes nothing, Wufei thought.

"Quatre, Commander Une and myself have been approached with evidence that gives rise to the belief that Duo may…"

"May what?" Quatre leaned forward, balancing on the edge of his seat. His eyes were widened in rapt attention and Wufei could almost feel the anxiety rolling off of the man's spirit. "Wufei, there's not evidence that he was murdered is there? It was an accident!"

"No…not murder. It's more complicated than that." Wufei squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them roughly with his thumb and forefinger. "Quatre….ah fuck, let's just be out with it. Duo may be alive."


	4. Review

Alive.

Quatre stood up abruptly from his chair, tilting it back on its hind legs and sending it crashing to the floor.

Duo…alive?

Wufei immediately jumped up and walked towards him, concern in his eyes, his strong hands gently grabbing Quatre's shoulders. Quatre was not aware of his friend's concern; his mind was thousands of miles away, focused on a day less than a year ago.

**AC 200, October 26**

Quatre had been in his office at the Winner Corporation building. Bills, paperwork and mining plans lay spread across his drafting table. His chest had been hurting him all day, but Quatre had just chalked it up to too much work, not enough sleep and endless supplies of stress.

Then the phone had rung.

Quatre sighed as he heard his secretary answer in the next room. A moment later she knocked on the door.

"Dammit, Jane! I told you, no calls!" Quatre cried out in frustration. Stupid secretary had apparently not been paying attention when he had stressed this fact when he stormed into the office at six a.m.

"I'm sorry Mr. Winner." Jane's voice was shaky, whether out of fear of Quatre or the subject of the call Quatre could not tell. "But…I believe you may want to take this."

"Dammit." Quatre reached out and grabbed the receiver on his desk.

"What?" He snapped.

"Oh Quatre!"

Quatre took a moment to place the voice, it was difficult to over the hysterical sobbing coming from the other end.

"Hilde?"

Suddenly the pain in his chest became unbearable. The feeling he had been ignoring all day suddenly washed over him, and he was acutely aware that things were horribly, horribly wrong.

"Hilde, just calm down and tell me what's wrong." Quatre fought to control his own voice.

The crying on the other end of the phone continued. Quatre heard someone in the background take the phone from Hilde and instruct another person to take her away.

"Quatre?" This time a voice that was unmistakable.

"Trowa. Trowa, what is it?" Quatre swallowed the panic he felt rising in his chest and steadied his voice.

"There was an accident. A motorcycle accident. Duo…he…Quatre he…" The usually calm, strong voice of Trowa wavered. Quatre could tell he was fighting to keep from crying.

"Where are you?"

"Washington, at his and Hilde's apartment."

"I'll be there first thing in the morning."

"Quatre?"

"Yes?"

"…Be safe."

The next few days were a blur. Quatre arrived at the Washington, DC spaceport in his own private shuttle, took a cab to Duo's apartment despite Rasid's strongest protests and came face to face with three of his old comrades.

Trowa answered the door, his adopted sister, Catherine stood at his shoulder, her heart-shaped face red and swollen from crying.

Trowa was trembling, physically trembling. Quatre had only seen the man this upset once before, five years prior when he had suffered from amnesia during the first war. Tears welled up in his green eyes and Quatre stepped into his arms allowing himself to cry for the first time since he heard the news.

The ex-Gundam pilots had all grown close over the years following the wars. Life had changed completely; things had started to look up for them all. Quatre had inherited his father's business. Wufei and Trowa had joined the Preventers and were Anne Une's top men in the organization, running the most dangerous and successful operations out of the headquarters in Belgium. Heero had gone to university in London to study Biotechnology. Duo and Hilde moved in together in Washington DC where he went to George Washginton University and worked as a mechanic in a body shop. They were finally able to be normal humans and not just five boys hardwired to fight as soldiers.

"He was out riding." Hilde said.

She was sitting in the middle of the couch, her back straight and her eyes puffy from crying. She looked thin, tired. Her dark hair was hanging limply around her shoulders, longer than it had been during the war and her bangs hung in her face, unwashed.

"He always goes out riding at dusk. Loves to see the sunset from the bayside of the city, y'know. He can't get over the sunsets on earth." She smiled. "He was coming back on Interstate 95, heavy traffic…and…someone just clipped his bike, accidentally." Her voice wavered and she paused.

Relena, sitting beside Hilde, reached over a squeezed the girl's hand. The Vice-Foreign Minister had flown over from her fall vacation in Paris as soon as she had heard the news.

"And he just lost control. I told him, I told him the last time he wrecked that bike that he was going to get himself killed. But he just laughed it off like he always does, waved me off, calling me a mother hen…Damnnit, I hate that I was right! Why couldn't I be wrong!"

Heero stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed and his blue eyes hidden beneath his messy bangs. Quatre couldn't see them, but he knew silent tears were falling from the man's eyes. Trowa sat on a chair across from Quatre. His eyes were closed, a line of anguish drawn on his forehead.

Wufei stood next to Trowa, his hand on the back of the chair. His black eyes were watchful, showing no emotion, but the trembling of the Asian man's lower lip belied his emotion at hearing of Duo's death.

"The God of Death."

Six pairs of eyes turned to the doorway where Heero stood. He met each of their stares with a faint smile.

"I guess Shinigami finally got tired of Duo impersonating him."

Hilde let out a pained laugh, her first since her best friend had died.

**October 31, AC 200**

Quatre had taken over making funeral arrangements with a Catholic church in town where Duo had attended services and volunteered at the orphanage. Wufei talked with Commander Une to ensure that Duo be buried in Arlington Cemetery, alongside generations of American soldiers who had fought in wars over the centuries.

Quatre had stood in the back room of the funeral home, Duo's closed casket by his side. The damage done had been too intensive for the mortician to fix, so after identifying the body, Hilde and the others had approved of it being a closed coffin service.

Quatre had not been able to see Duo after the accident. He could not resist seeing the ex-pilot of Deathscythe once more to say his final goodbye. Slowly, he had lifted the lid of the coffin and immediately regretted the decision.

Duo was dressed in a red t-shirt with a black long-sleeved button-up and a pair of black jeans, a favourite outfit of his. His signature braid was laid over his left shoulder and ran down his chest to stop near his hip. The left side of Duo's face seemed normal. He looked almost like he could be sleeping.

However, the right side of his face was crushed beyond recognition.

Quatre fought back a sudden wave of nausea and covered his mouth to keep from crying out. The mortician had done what he could to make Duo appear natural, but it was difficult to piece back together skin and bone. Duo's right temple was crushed, and his hair had been pulled over it to hide the imperfection. His right cheek was sunken in and his eye had drooped along with it, settling a few inches below the natural socket.

Quatre wished he could see those vibrant purple-tinged eyes open once again. He just looked so pale, so broken and lifeless.

How could one of the most feared pilots, a man who had defied death more times than the devil himself, die in such a trivial accident? It was just all too overwhelming. Quatre shut the casket as quietly as he could before rushing from the room.

Over one thousand people showed up for the funeral services. Duo had become a well-loved person in his community and amongst his fellow students and professors at GWU where he had been studying Engineering and Applied Science.

He had spent a lot of his spare time working with orphaned and underprivileged children in his community. Many, if not all, showed up to say goodbye to the young man who had once been just like them.

Hilde had insisted the four ex-pilots be the pall-bearers. For Quatre, it was the most difficult walk he had ever had to make in his life. His left hand gripped the handle on the side of Duo's grey and silver casket. Each step was torture, closer and closer to the front of the church. People were crowded into the sanctuary, and those who could not sit were standing in the aisles, the choir loft and the belfry. Even more were crowded in the lobby of the church and others stood on the marble steps outside.

He could hear the sobs of most, the prayers of others as he and the three other men carried the casket up the steps and into the sanctuary. The priest and some of the older orphaned children had put together a music list consisting of Duo's favourite music and Quatre smiled bitterly as he heard the lyrics of the song playing as they neared the front of the church.

_They say there's a heaven for those who wait_

_ Some say it's better but I say it ain't_

_ I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints_

_ The sinners are much more fun_

_ You know that only the good die young_

_ That's what I said _

_ I tell ya_

_ Only the good die young. _

Wufei let out a soft snort behind him.

"Well, if that doesn't describe Maxwell to a T…"

Heero chuckled and Quatre glanced back to see Trowa smile across the casket.

Oh Duo, I know you're watching all this right now and just laughing your ass off. You've reduced "The Perfect Soldier" to tears, made Trowa smile and Wufei crack jokes. You have over a thousand people here to celebrate your life and say goodbye for now. You are just eating this up, aren't you, you attention whore? Quatre thought, raising his eyes to look out the tall pane glass window behind the pulpit at the cloudy sky.

Wufei gripped Quatre's shoulders and shook the blonde man once.

"Quatre?"

The blonde blinked as he came out of his memory and reached up to wipe the tears he felt running down his cheeks.

"Alive?' he said aloud this time.

"Why don't we sit down and I'll let you take a look at the files."

Wufei steered Quatre back to his chair before returning to his own and grabbing his black messenger bag. He shuffled the papers inside.

"Ah, here."

Quatre reached for the thick manila envelope that Wufei offered him; eyeing his friend with an incredulous look.

"Classified. Code Alpha eyes only, I know." Wufei said, answering Quatre's silent question. "But I have express permission from Une herself that the other Gundam pilots are allowed to see this information. It pertains to all of us, after all."

Quatre nodded and unclasped the envelope.

Despite all he had seen as a Gundam pilot, despite all of the nameless, countless people he had killed, none of it prepared him for what he saw in the Code Alpha files.


	5. Return

The first thing that sat at the top of the file was the series of investigation and autopsy photographs after the accident. Quatre exhaled sharply when he saw the police photographs of the scene of the accident.

Duo's beloved Triumph Bonneville T-140 was scattered in pieces across the interstate.

Quatre remembered talking to Duo over the phone when he first bought the relic motorcycle.

"She's a beaut, Quat! 1979, absolutely _ancient_ man! I can't believe I found most of the parts for her! What I don't have I'm gonna make, because _damn_ I can't wait to put this baby on the road!"

The excitement in Duo's deep voice was catching and Quatre couldn't help but laugh.

"What do you want with all that rusted metal, Duo?" he asked.

"Shh! Quatre! You'll hurt her feelings!" Duo had laughed. "Man, you need to get your ass down to Earth soon. I want you to see her in action!"

Now, all the pieces of the carefully remodeled bike lay strewn across pavement and the median. A large chunk of the bike had broken through the metal guardrail and lay on its side in the grass.

A body lay on the side of the road. Duo's body, Quatre reminded himself.

He shuffled automatically to the next photograph.

A close-up of Duo lying on the side of the interstate. Quatre felt bile rise in the back of his throat.

Duo's left eye was open and staring blankly at the sky. The violet colour was faded, not as bright as Quatre remembered Duo's eyes always being. The right side of Duo's face was completely gone. The rough asphalt of the interstate had scraped the skin completely away and his skull had been crushed on impact. Quatre involuntarily gasped and pushed the photographs back into Wufei's hands.

"No, I can't do this." He stood again and walked to the window, fighting all his instincts to scream, to curse, to throw up.

Wufei's chair scraped against the wooden floor and he came to Quatre's side.

"You need to, Quatre. You need to see and maybe you can give us some better insight on all of this."

Quatre gazed unseeing at the nightscape of the colony's city. He clenched his fists and took two deep, calming breaths.

"No more autopsy photos." He said.

"Fine, you get the gist…" Wufei motioned towards Quatre's chair.

Quatre sat once again, this time at the edge of his seat. His stomach was twisted into knots and he didn't want to risk throwing up on the files Wufei had given him.

Wufei stuffed the autopsy photographs into the envelope and handed Quatre the files once again.

"I'm sorry, Quatre. I know this is all hard to see. It took me three days just to get up the nerve to work past the autopsy photos."

Quatre noted the pained look in Wufei's dark eyes and nodded weakly before looking once again at the photographs and pages in his hands.

At the top of the stack now sat a series of surveillance photographs. Unremarkable photographs at that. The first three he leafed through were photos of crowded civilian areas. The lobby of a bank, a crowded sidewalk in New York City, an underground entrance to a metro.

"I don't understand…" Quatre began.

"Look closer."

Quatre narrowed his eyes and peered closer at the photographs. He started to toss them back at Wufei in frustration when his eyes glanced across a familiar smile in the line to the metro station.

Quatre's heart began beating faster, the pain he had felt earlier in the day reaching an unbearable level.

"No."

Wufei sighed.

"I told you this was complicated."

"Complicated is not the word I'd use for this." Quatre said, his voice wavering.

"No, I guess not."

Wufei leaned forward and flipped past the general surveillance photographs to close-ups of the same photos.

Quatre grasped the photograph of the metro close-up in his hands and studied the face smiling up at him.

The smile was familiar, yet foreign to Quatre. It was Duo's signature smile, crooked and wide, but the eyes behind it were alien.

Wicked was the first word that came to his mind. The smile was aimed directly at the camera, indication that the formerly deceased Duo Maxwell was not trying to hide his identity.

Duo wore a baseball cap, pushed back from his face by his left hand in a sort of salute to the camera. Quatre searched for signs of disfiguration on Duo's face, but the grainy nature of the photo made it difficult to tell. There was no sign of his braid, it was hidden, possibly stuffed into the back of his navy blue peacoat.

Quatre shuffled to the next close-up from the bank's surveillance camera. Once again, Duo smiled up at the camera, this time his left eye was closed in a wink.

The street photo revealed Duo once more blatantly staring at the camera, only this time no smile graced his lips. His violet eyes were locked on the camera and Quatre shivered as a cold chill ran up his spine. Despite the uncanny resemblance, he refused to believe that this evil creature in the photos was his close friend.

"That can't be Duo." He said.

Wufei stood and picked up the picture frame on Quatre's table.

"Those are the only three photographs we were able to find. The First National bank of Dubai, the sidewalk near Liberty Center in New York, and the main metro entrance in London. All three in broad daylight, all close to the scene of three unsolvable deaths." He held up three fingers and waved them in the air.

Quatre raised his eyes from the photo and looked up at Wufei.

"He obviously wanted to be seen. We pored over video surveillance of these sites and all the surrounding areas, including the scenes where the deaths occurred. Not a single other sighting of him in any of them. And trust me, we studied them for weeks to be certain."

"And the deaths?"

"All believed to be from natural causes. No foreign toxins, not a single drop of blood. Just three dead bodies of three people who were healthy hours before."

Quatre rifled through the next series of photographs, his blue eyes growing wider.

"Trant Clark?" He asked, waving a picture of a corpse at Wufei.

"Believed dead after his encounter with the Zero System during the first war. He captured Duo and forced him to test the system."

"And now he's dead. Again." Quatre shook his head. "Is this about revenge?"

"Doubtful. Keep going."

Quatre turned to the next photo.

"Carson Trumble. What ties does he have to Duo?"

"None that we've been able to trace thus far. He was just a teller at the bank in Dubai. Pretty clean record, surprisingly enough."

"And Sharon Dermail?"

"Duke Dermail's ex-wife. I suppose this could be seen as revenge, but Duo had no feelings one way or another about Dermail in the past, so I can't imagine what would tie him to her. Once again, no evidence connecting her to any dirty laundry, just the unfortunate fact that she was married to Dermail." Wufei shook his head, his eyes narrowing.

"But none of what you've shown me proves that it's Duo." Quatre said.

"Well, that's another reason why I'm here."

"Oh?"

Wufei raised his eyes to meet Quatre's, and the blonde man was abruptly aware of how difficult this all was on the Asian.

"Duo had listed the Gundam pilots in his will as the executors of his estate. Because of that, we need all of our written permission to exhume the body for investigation."

"Exhume..the..body? Duo's body?" Quatre shot to his feet once again, knocking the files onto the floor.

"It's the only way we can confirm positively whether or not the man in the pictures is Duo Maxwell, or a damn good copycat."

"Does Trowa and Heero know about all of this?"

"Yes and no. We haven't been able to get in touch with Heero since we were alerted of these photographs. In fact, we haven't heard from him at all since the funeral." A dark look came over Wufei's handsome face.

"Come to think of it, I haven't spoken to Heero since the Wake either." Quatre mused.

"Well, another reason we need your help then."

"You realize I'm going to want to be a part of this investigation."

Wufei gave Quatre a pained smile.

"I knew you were going to say that." He stood and held out his hand to the Arabian man.

"Welcome to the Preventers, Quatre."


	6. Respond

** October 12- Colony L4-165-21-10**

Quatre stared out the reinforced plexiglass window of his private shuttle and watched as it banked away from his home colony. One of the perks of being the richest man in the colonies was having the ability to fly anywhere he wanted on very short notice.

His mind whirled with the memory of what had transpired in the past twelve hours. Wufei had shown up, business as usual, photographs of the accident, Duo…alive? Quatre shook his head and his neat blonde hair fell into his eyes. He puffed out a frustrated breath and ran his fingers back through his hair, brushing the bangs out of his eyes.

"Any word back on Heero yet?"

Wufei stood in the aisle of the shuttle, his black eyes leveled on Quatre.

"No. Not a damned thing. Did you get a hold of Sally?"

"Yeah, still nothing on her end. She's going to get in touch with Relena. She may know something." Wufei said.

"Alright, I suppose that's the best we can do for now." Quatre gave Wufei a weak smile as the Chinese man slid into the comfortable leather seat facing him.

The two men sat in silence for several minutes, both looking out the window.

It was Quatre who finally broke the silence.

"What are we going to do, hypothetically, if the casket is empty?"

Wufei looked up into pained light blue eyes.

"I hadn't thought that far yet." He admitted after a moment's thought.

Quatre leaned back into his chair and resumed staring out at space.

"I can't believe that it will be empty." Wufei spoke after a lengthy silence.

Quatre turned his eyes and focused on Wufei.

"We all saw him, Quatre. We buried him. As much as I'd like to believe he's still alive, I can't see how the hell he could have just woken up and crawled out of his own grave." Wufei's voice was shaky, strained. "Dead people don't just get up and walk around."

"Zechs did." Quatre said.

"Point taken. However, we all saw Duo. All we saw of Milliardo's 'death' was the explosion. Slightly different."

Quatre sighed.

"Granted. But Wufei, it still doesn't answer the question of who that imposter is."

"Trowa's working on that. Running more advanced face recognition software, clearing up the photographs, and searching for more potential video surveillance. It's a long shot, but maybe we can find someone who can give us a lead."

Quatre was aware of the note of incredulity in Wufei's voice. He opened his mouth to comment on it when a sharp ringing interrupted him.

"Excuse me." Wufei fished in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, pressing the screen. "Hello?"

Quatre watched as Wufei's eyes narrowed. A dark look crossed the man's face.

"We're on our way to Brussels now….yes…yes, I understand. Is Trowa going there now?" Wufei met Quatre's gaze and shook his head. "No…alright, well, call us as soon as you know for sure. Goodbye, Commander."

"Une?"

"Of course. Trowa has a lead on Heero."

"Then why the dark look?"

"It seems Yuy hasn't handled things too well."

**October 12- Liverpool, England**

Trowa Barton sidestepped a wide right-hook and with a graceful spin, grasped the wrist of Heero Yuy and pinned it behind his back.

Trowa's nose wrinkled in disgust as he pressed his body against the Japanese man's back, holding his arms tight.

"God, Yuy, you stink," he said.

Heero replied with an angry growl and attempted to throw his full weight back into Trowa's lithe body. The taller man anticipated the move and let go of Heero, stepping back and allowing the drunken man to tumble onto the floor of the pub.

Trowa had walked into the dim little pub in Liverpool ten minutes prior chasing the trail of Heero Yuy. He had not had the chance to ask the bartender if he had seen the brunette man when he was ambushed from behind by a highly intoxicated Heero.

Heero was not down for long, despite his inebriated state he was still a Gundam pilot and his old training was kicking in. He was back on his feet in seconds, swaying only a little before he rushed at Trowa again.

Trowa stepped to the side and missed Heero's first punch, but the second fist met his cheek with a sickening crunch. Trowa staggered against the edge of a wooden table and his left hand brushed the handle of a pint of beer. Heero lunged to throw another strong punch at Trowa's face, but was brought up short when the green-eyed man slammed the glass mug into the side of his head.

Heero stared at Trowa with a look of confusion before his deep blue eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed onto the floor for a second time.

Trowa tossed the handle of the shattered mug back onto the table and brushed his hands on his pleated grey slacks. He looked around at the occupants of the pub, all sitting in silence and watching him with wide eyes.

"Preventer business." Was all he said, a smile ghosting his lips as the chatter picked up once again.

He dropped down to one knee and tapped his hand against Heero's left cheek.

"C'mon Yuy, let's get out of here."

Heero's eyes fluttered open and fixed Trowa with an old, but familiar glare.

"Coulda been more gentle, Barton," Heero growled, his voice slurred, though whether it was from the minor head injury or the alcohol, Trowa was not sure.

Trowa extended his right hand and Heero grasped it, allowing the taller man to pull him to his feet.

"Now what's the fun in that?"

**October 13- Brussels, Belgium**

Heero leaned against the sink of his hotel room's bathroom. His strong hands gripped the sides of the porcelain basin tight enough to turn his knuckles white. He was breathing heavily.

"Yuy, get a fuckin' grip," he hissed to himself.

He lifted his head and winced at the sight that met him. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and he had not shaved in weeks. He couldn't remember the last time he had bathed. Was it in Dublin? Or Barcelona maybe? Either way, the scruffy beard on his face and the stench he had grown to live with indicated that it had been quite a while.

His dark brown hair was hanging in his eyes, straggly and unwashed. The tips of it brushed his shoulders. He had not cut it in a long time either.

Heero lifted a shaky hand to his face and touched his right cheek. An ugly purple bruise lingered where Trowa had introduced the mug to his face the previous day. He smiled cruelly. The hand continued up, pushing his shaggy bangs out of his eyes and scrutinizing his appearance more thoroughly.

"A damn fine mess, Yuy."

Heero closed his eyes at the sound of the deep, mocking voice.

"I thought you shut up weeks ago," Heero said, a hint of relief in his voice.

"Just here trying to get you back on track. I've been dead for almost a year. You'd think you'd be over it by now."

Heero opened his eyes again and gazed into a very familiar face.

The reflection in the mirror was one that had smiled at him countless times over the past six years since their first chance meeting. The violet-eyed bastard had shot him then, twice.

"Still sore about that, are you?" A smile curled up the left side of Duo Maxwell's face.

Heero felt his stomach churn as he watched the disfigured right half of Duo's face mimic the smile. It was gruesome to say the least.

The left side of Duo's face was one with which Heero was very familiar. The sparkling violet eye, the strong, stubborn jaw, the quirky way his lips would rise higher on the left half of his face than the right; always, even before the accident.

But the right half of Duo's face was the face of a monster. The reanimated face of a boy killed in a motorcycle accident, his skin and blood smeared across the blacktop.

Disfigured was a polite way of putting it.

Duo's hair was swept to the side, an attempt to hide the fact that the right half of his head was crushed to the temple. The cheekbone was showing through his torn skin; broken and jutting out from his face. The muscles and tendons that remained were taut, pulled back into a horrific rendering of the other half of Duo's old smile.

Worst of all, Heero thought, was the sunken eye. Duo's right eyelid was drooping, half lidded over a blood red iris.

"Good ta see you, buddy," Duo's voice came again.

"I wish I could say the same."

"Haha, oh Heero, you have a sense of humour after all!" Duo's laugh echoed in the tile room, sending shivers down Heero's spine.

"But seriously…" The smile disappeared from Duo's broken face. "Heero, why are you still doing this to yourself?"

"Doing what?"

"This."

Heero felt a cold touch brush against his cheek and he shivered visibly.

"Sorry, I forget how cold that is to you." What could possibly be described as a sheepish smile touched Duo's features. "But, Heero, man, you gotta move on. I'm dead. You're alive. End of story. Should be pretty simple really."

"But you're not dead, you're right here, talking to me. I can see you."

Duo clicked his tongue and shook his head, rolling his left eye in mock exasperation.

"Haven't we been over this? I'm dead. I can't be here talking to you. Man, the guys are gonna think you've gone cuckoo!"

"Haven't I?"

"Ok, maybe slightly."

"Thank you."

"Heero. You can't keep wanting to see me like this." Duo's hand wavered in the mirror, indicating his face.

"We're Gundam pilots." Heero whispered, his eyes dropping from Duo's face. "We don't die."

"We do. We're flesh and blood, just like every other living, breathing, bleeding human being on this planet."

"But not you. You're still here."

A sad look crossed Duo's face.

"Only because you want me to be."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"For you it is. How long have you been wandering this time? Two months? No decent food, no money, too much booze, not enough sleep."

Had it really been two months since Heero had last been sober? Again, he couldn't remember, but Duo would know.

"This isn't how I would have wanted you to be, Heero. What did I tell you after the first war? That we were gonna live our lives to their fullest."

"The fullest." Heero echoed.

"I lived mine. Got cut a bit short, I guess somebody up there wanted me home early. Too much trouble I could get into being unleashed for so long."

Heero snorted.

"But you. God, Heero look at you. You're a fuckin' mess, dude. How you gonna get a decent girl lookin' like that? I bet even Relena wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole right now."

Heero shrugged his shoulders.

"Now, get off the booze. Go be with the guys, and for Christ's sake man, stop talking to dead people!"

Heero raised his eyes, but he was too late. Duo's image had already disappeared from the mirror, replaced once again with his own.

He took a deep, shaky breath and tried to calm his nerves. His hands were shaking so hard he was afraid he was going to rip the sink off of the wall.

Maybe Duo was right. He should get a grip on himself. And damn if he didn't look like shit warmed over.

Reaching over to the wire towel rack he grabbed a towel and a washcloth.

One step at a time, Yuy. Now, first thing's first, get rid of that God awful stench.


	7. Reaccord

**October 13- Preventers Headquarters- Brussels, Belgium**

Commander Anne Une sat behind the desk in her large office. Papers and photographs lay strewn across the large surface of the desk in no apparent order.

Her eyes were closed and her honey brown hair was pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in a white dress shirt, her tie loosened around the collar. Her Preventers jacket hung on a coat rack near the door.

A soft knock sounded at the door and Anne's light brown eyes opened.

"Enter."

Wufei stepped through the door as it opened, Quatre following behind.

Anne stood and walked around the desk, extending her right hand to Wufei. The black haired man shook it firmly and smiled at the mastermind behind the Preventers.

"Good to have you back, Chang." Une returned his smile and turned to Quatre. Before she could hold out her hand, the blonde embraced her in a tight hug.

"And very good to see you again, Quatre," she said, returning the embrace.

"And you, Lady Une." Quatre smiled at the woman in front of him.

He was still amazed about how much his impression of Anne Une had changed over the past six years since the war. Back then he had seen her as a twisted and cruel military leader, now he saw her as a friend.

Anne waved her hands, indicating two leather chairs near her desk.

"Gentlemen, please have a seat. I just spoke to Trowa. He and Heero are on their way here now from the hotel."

"So, he was able to track Heero down." Quatre said, taking the proffered seat.

"Yes, it wasn't too difficult once we were able to talk to Relena. She had spoken to Heero about two months ago, told us he had been in St. Petersburg at the time. From there it was only a matter of following his trail."

Quatre was about to ask where all Heero had been over the past two months when another knock came at the door.

"Enter." Une said again.

Trowa swung the door open, leading a weary looking Heero Yuy through into Une's office.

Quatre and Wufei rose to their feet, their eyes widening in shock as they took in Heero's appearance.

The ex-pilot of the Wing Gundam stood before them, his eyes rooted to the floor. His hair had been washed and combed. It hung framing his face and falling to his shoulders. He was thin, a ghost of the muscular man they had last seen a year ago at the funeral.

"Heero." Quatre said, his voice soft.

Heero raised his eyes from the floor and met Quatre's light blue ones. The ex-Sandrock pilot bit his lip to keep from crying out. The haunted look in Heero's cobalt blue eyes brought a deep ache to Quatre's chest.

"Hi guys." Heero's voice wavered.

"Jesus, Yuy." Wufei's own voice sounded weak.

Une stepped forward again and placed her hand on Heero's shoulder.

"Have a seat, Heero. We have a lot to discuss and I know it's not going to be easy on any of us."

Heero's eyes fell to the floor again and he nodded his head.

Une resumed her seat behind the desk and let her eyes rove over the four men sitting in front of her.

"I'm sure you've all been briefed as to why you're here." She settled her eyes on Trowa who nodded his head.

"Good. Now, we need to keep level headed about all of this. As of this moment, Quatre and Heero, you are officially instated as Preventers. You have full access to the entire compound here, all of the files and databases. I have uniforms and badges ready for both of you, as well as clearance passes to Alpha level areas.

"That said, I must remind you, do not abuse these privileges. Ineed you all focused on this case. It is centered around the four of you, after all. There is no one else who I trust more working on this. I know it's a highly painful subject for you, but we need the Gundam pilots and their training behind this."

Une wove her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands.

"Firstly, I need the written and verbal approval from all four of you to exhume the body of one Duo Maxwell from Arlington Cemetery in Washington."

Heero's hands twitched, grasping the armrests of his chair. His eyes retained their distant look however. Quatre reached out his right hand and placed it on Heero's left, giving him silent reassurance through the touch.

Une noticed Heero's movement, but pressed on.

"You have all seen the photographs, the case files. I hope you understand that this is a necessary move in order to confirm whether or not the face in those surveillance photos is that of Duo Maxwell, or a very, very good imposter."

She leaned forward and shuffled through some papers on her desk.

"I'm going to call several witnesses to come in and observe the signing of these documents and your verbal agreements to my request. If any of you are uncomfortable or opposed to this, please let me know now."

She paused and allowed the four men to contemplate her request.

Quatre spoke first.

"I agree to your request. I think it's important for us to find the imposter, and if digging up Duo is the way to do it…well, then that's just how it has to be."

"I'm with Quatre." Wufei said.

"As am I." Trowa agreed.

"Heero?" Une's eyes settled on the dark haired pilot once again.

He sat in silence for a moment, his arms crossed and his chin resting against his chest.

"We're not going to find Duo in there."

He spoke so softly the others had to strain to hear him.

Trowa and Wufei exchanged confused looks and then turned their eyes back to Heero.

"He's not dead. That casket is going to be empty." Heero's voice was stronger now.

Anne was the first to regain her composure.

"Well, then, we have an accord?"

The four pilots nodded their heads in agreement.

She reached forward again, touching the button on an intercom.

"We have reached an agreement. Will the three of you enter please?"


	8. Reveal

**October 15- Arlington National Cemetery- Washington D.C.**

It was nearly dawn in Arlington National Cemetery. The sun had not yet begun to peek over the horizon. A thick mist lay over the fields of gravestones and there was a slight chill in the early October morning air.

Heero crouched beside a single white headstone, his hand gripping the monument. The white stone was simple; a single cross was carved into the top and below it, a name. Duo Maxwell.

Another carving of demon wings and a scythe sat beneath the name. A design of Duo's; one he had once stenciled onto his beloved motorcycle and had had tattooed on his own shoulder, a reminder of his oldest war buddy, the Gundam Deathscythe.

Below the intricate carving the stone read: Medal of Honor. Capt. Gundam Forces. Eve Wars. Marimeia War. AC 180-October 26, 201.

Heero leaned forward and rested his head on the cold stone.

"Remember when we were all given the rank of Captain, Duo? After the second war?"

There was a heavy silence for a moment, then a perceptible pocket of cooler air brushed by Heero's left side.

"How could I forget?"

Heero kept his eyes closed but smiled at the sound of Duo's voice.

"We got completely trashed the night before, drank until nearly dawn. Wufei puked all over Relena's pretty white dress in the middle of the ceremony, right on stage. Rather memorable night." Duo snickered. "Poor Wu. Guy never could hold his liquor."

"Well, if you hadn't challenged him to that drinking contest." Heero said.

"Drank the bastard under the table didn't I?"

"Then kept going after he passed out." Heero's smile widened at the memory. Duo had ended up dancing on top of the bar, getting the five pilots escorted from the establishment.

"Good times," Heero said.

"Hell, yeah."

Heero could physically feel Duo's presence near him, though whether it was the fact he was sitting beside his grave, or the fifth of rum he had swiped from the package store on the way to the cemetery, he could not tell.

"Hey, Heero!" Quatre's voice broke into his thoughts.

Heero jerked his head up from the grave, blinking tears from his eyes. His gaze swept the nearby gravestones emerging from the mist, but there was no sign of Duo, not even footprints in the dewy grass.

"I thought I would find you here." Quatre knelt down beside Heero and put his hand on the dark haired man's shoulder.

"We got worried when we realized you weren't in your room. Hold on, lemme give the others a call and let them know I found you." Quatre stood and moved away from Heero, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing Wufei's cell.

Heero remained sitting, his hand still on Duo's gravestone. His eyes darted from stone to stone, peering deep into the mist searching for an out of place shadow or movement. After a few minutes he let out a frustrated growl and climbed to his feet.

"The guys are on their way. Along with the burial manager and the exhuming crew." Quatre's voice took on a pained note as he finished his sentence.

"Better to get it done early in the morning. Don't wanna disturb other visitors." Heero said.

Quatre nodded and glanced at his watch.

"0700 hours. Almost dawn." His blue eyes rose to look towards the horizon. "Maybe the sun will clear out some of this fog. Damn stuff gives me the heebie jeebies."

Heero grunted in agreement. Being in a graveyard while it was still dark was not on his list of top ten favourite places to be. But if it meant he could still hear Duo, then, well, he'd come and spend every single night here to talk to the man.

Quatre and Heero found a bench beneath a tree and sat down to wait for the arrival of the other Preventers and the burial manager. The sun began to rise over the horizon as they waited, the strong beams burning off the morning mist.

"Ah, now that's better." Quatre's face relaxed as light spread across the hills of gravestones.

Heero could not help but feel a lingering sadness as the sun rose into the sky.

"Duo, why don't you just come out of hiding…I know you're out there," he whispered, searching the gravestones once again.

"Did you say something?"

Heero turned to see Quatre staring at him, concern easy to see in his expressive eyes.

"Just muttering to myself." Heero lowered his head. His hands were shaking and he gripped the seat of the bench to steady them.

"Heero."

"Don't fuckin' start, Quat!" Heero's voice came out harsher than he had meant it to and he regretted yelling as he saw his friend's face register shock and hurt.

The two men continued to sit in an uncomfortable silence. Quatre was attempting to work out how to try to approach Heero again when the taller man stood.

"Here they come."

Quatre looked in the direction Heero indicated with his right hand and saw a large group of people walking through the cemetery. Wufei and Trowa were at the head of the group, an unfamiliar middle-aged woman keeping stride with them. Behind them came Zechs Marquise, Lucretzia Noin and Sally Po. Two small utility vehicles puttered along behind the group, their beds carrying assorted equipment. Materials to dig and to raise the casket, Quatre surmised.

It did not take long for the crew to begin digging. Four men had stepped out of the utility carts and awaited the confirmation by the burial manager that Duo's grave was the correct site. Mrs. Amy Norris, the manager, gave the orders as soon as Zechs and Noin presented the papers.

The two hours it took for the men to dig to Duo's casket were some of the more excruciating hours Heero had ever suffered in his life. His comrades watched with growing concern as he paced back and forth at the edge of the excavation site, his hands going from his pockets, to his elbows, running through his hair and then back to his pockets.

Sally stood at Wufei's side following Heero's movements as he walked back and forth.

"How long has he been like this?" She whispered in Wufei's ear.

Wufei simply shrugged.

"A sad shadow of the pilot I remember." Zechs moved to stand beside Sally, his ice-blue eyes hidden behind a dark pair of sunglasses. "Do you think it's such a good idea to have brought him into this?"

Sally continued to watch the ex-Wing Zero pilot.

"Doubtful, but then again, he had a chance to refuse to come. This may be a way to help him move on."

Heero came to a sudden stop as a thud echoed from the gravesite.

"Got it!"

A young red-headed man pulled himself out of the deep hole. Another, older man climbed up after him, and they busied themselves readying ropes and a pulley-machine, lowering various items to the other men below. It took fifteen minutes for them to rig up the pulley and raise the casket from its concrete liner.

"Doesn't look like anything's been tampered with since we put this one down there last year." One of the men who had been digging spoke. He pulled a handkerchief from the chest pocket of his shirt and wiped his broad forehead with it.

Sally agreed with the man's quick appraisal. The grey and silver casket showed no signs of forced entry.

"The concrete liner was still intact?" Mrs. Norris asked.

"Completely, ma'am." The young redhead answered.

"Well, officers," Mrs. Norris addressed the small crowd. "We have a van waiting to take the casket to the DC Headquarters…"

A loud cracking noise interrupted her and the group turned to see Heero inserting a crowbar into a slit in Duo's casket.

"Yuy, what the hell do you think you're doing!" Wufei's voice cracked with surprised anger.

Quatre took a step towards Heero and was stopped short by Trowa's strong hand on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't go near him if you value your skull." Trowa pointed a finger at the healing bruise on his cheek.

"Good advice, Trowa. I would have broken your jaw had I been sober." Heero said, pressing his weight down on the crowbar, grinning as the casket began to open.

"Step away from the casket, Heero." Zechs had moved forward as well, pulling a handgun from beneath his Preventers jacket and aiming it at Heero's arm.

"Hn." Heero said, ignoring Zechs' order. He slammed the crowbar against the casket again, wriggling the flattened edge into another small slit.

"You know I'll pull the trigger, Yuy. Just step away." Zechs' finger tightened on the trigger.

"Duo would have already fired, so shut the hell up, Marquise." Heero grunted with effort as he applied more pressure onto the crowbar.

Noin and Sally cringed as the casket let out another tortured crack.

"Heero, we'll be able to open the casket properly at Headquarters. It's not far, and we'll know soon enough. Please just stop this!" Quatre's chest was burning with pain. He was terrified for his friend, but even more frightened by what may lie inside Duo's casket. He did not want to see what was inside, and it seemed as if Heero were hell-bent on revealing its contents to the entire group out in the open.

A sharp shot rang out and Quatre jumped. He turned his eyes to Zechs, only to see the older man staring towards Heero with angry, narrowed eyes, the gun hanging by his side.

Heero stood, a familiar, frightening smile of triumph on his face. It was a smile Quatre had seen before innumerable times, but on someone else. In spite of himself he shivered.

The casket lid had been flung open. What Quatre had mistaken for a gunshot was the sound of the casket breaking open under Heero's strength.

The group stood in silence. Wufei noticed out of the corner of his eye that the young redheaded gravedigger had fainted on the spot. He'd have to remember to laugh about that later, Duo would have appreciated it.

"I told you." Heero's voice broke the silence. "I told you it would be empty."

* * *

So, I swore to you I wouldn't have any more disclaimers at the BEGINNING of my chapters...didn't say a thing about at the end of them! AHAH! A loophole!

TADAH! Yet ANOTHER cliffhanger. I profusely apologize, but this chapter has been itching to get out of me for the longest time. I have been moving from my original fic version of this story and changing so much of it it is hardly recognizable now that it is in the GW world. Thus, this has been the hardest chapter to write...(so far) for multiple reasons, many of which are long, drawn out and personal and I will not bother you with those nitpicky things here.

Just a warning, I am about to visit my boyfriend for the weekend and will be MIA for the next 3-4 days. I understand how hard this will be on everyone (not), but do not fear! I promise to return early next week with one if not TWO chapters at the ready for your reading pleasure. I know this only extends to the handful of people who are actually reading this, but to those of you who are I thank you from the bottom of my heart! It is for you that I am working on this story with such fervor.

With much love and many hugs,

Ash


	9. Revisit

Wufei had never felt as confused in his life as he did over the course of the next twenty-four hours. And he would be the first to admit he had a history of being a highly confused individual: his past record of flipping back and forth about who his real enemy was during the wars was evidence of that.

He was sitting in a bland interrogation room at the Preventers' US Headquarters building, his elbows propped on his knees, and his face pressed into his upturned hands. Over and over his mind worked through memories, sifting through stills and voices in his head, trying to place something, anything out of the ordinary that had occurred over the past year.

Not a single discrepancy came to him. Time after time he imagined the last image he held of Duo in his mind: a body, decidedly dead, in a casket.

Dead. Duo was without a doubt dead.

But, no. That did not explain the photographs of the man in the bank, the crowded street, the metro station. It sure as hell did not explain the casket that now sat in a dark, sterile examination room three stories below Wufei's feet. An empty casket. A casket that looked as if no one had ever lain in it, like it was brand-spankin'-new off the showroom floor.

Wufei pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, causing multi-coloured spots to swim against the blackness of his eyelids.

Trowa sat beside Wufei, his green eyes closed and his head laid back against the slate-grey wall. His mind was occupied with thoughts similar to Wufei's. He was attempting to piece together his memories of the accident; the autopsy he had sat in on, the casket with Duo's body in it, lowered into the ground, covered with a heavy concrete lid, and buried. His sharp mind calculated the strength it would take to open the lid of the casket, push the concrete cover off, and crawl through the dirt and rock to the surface of the ground.

Impossible strength is what it would take, he concluded. Strength that Duo would not have had even had his body not been broken from the accident; if he had survived it. A strength that Heero, on his best day, would be hard pressed to find. And to do it all without breaking the lid of the casket, without snapping the seal on the concrete lid, and spilling dirt into the innards of the coffin, that was downright unbelievable. It had to be an outside job. Someone on the outside had dug up Duo's coffin, stolen the body, and replaced the seals on both the casket and the concrete liner. There was no other logical explanation.

Meanwhile, Quatre sat across the table from Trowa and Wufei, his arms wrapped around himself, his head hanging between his knees. His body was wracked with pain. The tightness in his chest had only worsened over the past day since they had discovered Duo's casket empty and untouched. His head was spinning, plagued with images of Duo's autopsy photos, memories of the funeral and the burial, and his increasing fear for the man seated beside him, handcuffed to the metal chair.

Heero sat in the chair, seeming oblivious to the world around him. Quatre knew he could break out of the cuffs as if he were bound by twine instead of the titanium alloy, and yet the man once known as The Perfect Soldier sat in total peace. Quatre felt sick, weakened by his pain, and frustrated at his inability to understand everything that was going on.

A very large part of him wanted to believe that Duo had survived the accident. The autopsy had not been thorough, and the embalmer had skipped out on the procedure because he was feeling tired that day.

'Illogical bullshit, Quatre.' He chided himself.

None of that was possible. Duo's skull was crushed, his heart no longer beating, his lungs no longer taking in and releasing air. He had been cut open; Trowa had been there, had seen the medical examiners extract Duo's heart, liver, lungs, kidneys. He was an organ donor after all, and the only thing that had suffered mortal damage was his head; no need to keep the much-needed organs from those who needed them now.

Someone had stolen Duo's body and that single thought sickened him more than anything else.

Heero sat complacent in the uncomfortable metal chair. His hands were cuffed behind his back, the chains between the cuffs looped through the handles of the chair. His blue eyes seemed distant, distracted. Quatre felt as if he no longer knew the man sitting beside him. Was Heero even aware of the fact that they were sitting in an interrogation room and that he was the center of the other Preventers' attention? Zechs was livid.

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear, Quatre thought to himself as the tall agent slammed the door open and stalked into the room.

Wufei and Trowa both looked up at the long-haired blonde man with guarded eyes. Despite Heero's radical behaviour, they would stick together. They would defend his actions, though why they had no idea. They still could not understand why the man had not waited for the casket to be brought to headquarters where they could open it properly in a controlled environment.

Noin and Sally followed Zechs into the room and took the two remaining seats around the table. Zechs remained standing, his eyes locked on Heero and his hands held behind his back.

"We have had to explain your actions to Commander Une over the vid-phone." He began. "And we have been downstairs in the examination room with the US Director for the past four hours, taking a closer look at the casket which you so deftly destroyed."

Zechs noted a slight twitch on Heero's left cheek, but the man maintained a passive look on his face continuing to stare past Zechs at the wall.

"Furthermore, after another several hours in the director's office and with _much_ help from Une, we have been able to successfully come to an agreement that they will release you from their custody. There will not be any measures taken to extract punishment on you." As he said this Zechs' ice-blue eyes flashed in a threatening manner. "But if you so much as dare pull a stunt like this again, Yuy!"

Heero's head swiveled to meet Zechs' gaze and a stony look crossed his face. Quatre could have cheered out of relief; it was a face he was much more used to seeing on the stoic soldier's face.

"I apologize for my actions." Heero said, the first words he had spoken since he was hauled into the small room in handcuffs earlier that morning. "However, I can not admit in truth that I regret them. I had to know." His eyes met Zechs and matched the older man's penetrating glare.

"It's unlike you to be so reckless, Heero." Noin spoke up. "You've always been so precise, measured."

"I learned from Duo that sometimes risks are worth taking."

"I think you're crazy." Zechs said.

"How many times did we take risks during the war? How many times did we jump into a battle knowing without a doubt that we were outmatched? How many times did you pull an insane stunt just to know that you could do it? Wasn't Epyon one of those risks? Was it worth it?"

Zechs' eyes widened.

" I thought so."

Heero slumped back into his chair, the metal of his cuffs clinking against the chair.

"It was a stupid move, I know. But wouldn't Duo have done the exact same thing?" His eyes roved across the other pilots in the room. "We all know he would have. He would have dug up one of our graves on his own without waiting for permission from a funeral director just for the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Now, get these damn cuffs off of me." He jangled his wrists.

"Heero, you broke out of those cuffs not ten seconds after the other agents left the room several hours ago." Wufei spoke from across the table. "No need to keep acting for our benefit."

Heero grunted and pulled his hands out from behind his back, tossing the cuffs to Zechs as he did so.

Trowa could not suppress a smile at Quatre's astonished look.

"Enough." Zechs dropped the heavy cuffs onto the table. "You have permission to join us in inspecting the casket. Supervised permission." He shot a warning glare at Heero before he spun on his heel and stormed back out of the room.

Noin and Sally stood, glancing around at the pilots.

"You all must be starved." Sally said. "Let's get you some food before we head downstairs. I have a feeling you're going to be too consumed by inspecting the casket to worry about food once you're down there."

* * *

It was six a.m. when the pilots finished a hearty breakfast and joined Noin, Sally and Zechs in the examination room. The silver casket sat on a raised platform in the center of the room and was illuminated from all sides by industrial lamps. Noin and Sally had medical issue gloves on and were slowly working over the left side of the casket, away from Heero's forced entry, searching for signs of another entry point.

"Quadrants F and G seem untouched." Sally announced from her kneeling position."

Zechs was photographing the opposite side of the casket.

"Everything looks clear over here too." He announced.

Quatre stood back from the casket as the three other pilots put on their own gloves and kneeled on the floor to help Sally and Noin.

"Wait."

The group on the floor turned to look at Quatre.

"What if we're looking at it from the wrong angle? What if the casket wasn't breached from above?"

"You're saying it may have been entered from beneath? Through the concrete liner?" Zechs arched his left eyebrow.

"It's plausible. Especially if it was an outside party that broke into the casket." Trowa said.

"Crazy, but possible." Wufei agreed.

"Well, let's rip out the lining then." Heero stood and raised his eyebrows inquiringly at Zechs.

"Worth a shot," the man agreed.

Trowa, Wufei and Quatre began to work on tearing the black silk lining out of the casket. Heero and Zechs lay on their backs beneath the platform feeling for any cracks or imperfections on the bottom of the casket indicating that the bottom had been damaged or changed in some way. After a solid hour of searching the group admitted defeat.

"An impenetrable casket." Wufei said, pushing a few stray strands of hair that had fallen in his face.

"Whoever broke into this thing knew what they were doing."

"Or it's just an entirely different casket altogether." Quatre said. "There have to be several of this same model. Maybe we could begin searching local funeral homes to see if any of these have been bought in the past twelve months."

"Good thinking, Quatre." Noin stood from where she was crouched beside the casket. "I'll get a few of the agents to start calling about that."

"Any other suggestions?" Zechs let his gaze wander over the group of Preventers.

"That's all I've got." Quatre shrugged.

"Well, it's as good a place as any to start." Zechs sighed and ran his fingers through his white-blonde locks. "We've been at this for over a day now. Why don't we call it a break and everyone go and get some rest. Report back to headquarters at 0800 sharp."


	10. Rehash

At first Heero was not sure why he was awake. He was lying on his twin bed in the hotel room he shared with Quatre. The blonde man was occupying the matching bed and his back was turned to Heero.

It had been a sound. A whisper maybe? Or the sound of something brushing across the thick carpet?

Heero listened for another sound to alert him that there was a third person in the dark room, but all he could hear was the steady breathing of his roommate.

Then what had jerked him from his sleep?

Heero remained lying on his right side with his eyes closed, maintaining the steady, slow breathing pattern of his sleep. He had been sleeping with his right hand beneath his pillow and now he wrapped his long fingers around the hilt of his 9 mm Glock machine pistol.

He flipped into a sitting position in a fast, smooth motion. He had tripped the safety as he turned, and his finger sat poised on the trigger. The barrel of the pistol rested against the forehead of Duo Maxwell.

Heero's eyes widened as he realized that Duo had the barrel of a similar handgun pressed against his own forehead. The steel was cold against Heero's skin, but he did not seem at all startled by the fact that he had a gun to his head.

"Hello, Duo."

"Fast as ever, Yuy. Still not fast enough, though." The smirk Duo had on his face widened, revealing a flash of white teeth in the dark. "So are you going to lower your gun, or do you plan on burying me again?"

"I have no intentions of putting my gun down as long as yours remains against my forehead."

"Well, looks as if we've reached a conundrum then." Duo laughed.

Heero's eyes flashed to Quatre's still sleeping form and then back to Duo's eyes.

"What did you give him?"

"Me? Nothing." Duo's dark face feigned innocence.

"Quatre is one of the lightest sleepers I know. Trust me, I had to use every stealth trick I knew to not wake him when I sneaked out the other morning. What did you give him, Duo?"

"I may run and hide but I…"

"Never tell a lie, I know."

"Then you should trust me when I tell you that I didn't give Quat a damn thing." Duo's darkened eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here, Duo?' Heero asked.

"Just entertaining the ideas in your mind."

"I don't follow."

"Am I alive? Am I dead? If I'm dead, who stole the body? The questions you and the other guys are all asking."

"So, you're fucking with me then."

"Either that, or your mind is." Duo remained standing, his left hand holding the gun steady against Heero's head. "Think about it, 'Ro. You see me in your reflections. You hear my voice in a dark graveyard. You're sitting in your bed having a casual conversation with a dead person, and your sensitive sleeper buddy two feet away hasn't moved a muscle. Case closed. It's textbook. You're bat-shit crazy!"

"So, you're saying it's all a dream."

"Been hittin' the bottle a little heavy lately, buddy?"

Heero pressed his lips into a thin line and refused to answer Duo's question.

"Hey, no need to get sensitive, Heero!" Duo flapped his right hand in a carefree manner, as if waving away the tension between he and Heero. "Just a moot point."

"So, if you're dead, and just an illusion of my strung-out imagination…what happens if I do this?" Heero squeezed the trigger of his gun.

The door of their room swung open and slammed against the wall, spilling light from the hallway into Heero and Quatre's room.

"Heero, what the hell are you doing!" Wufei's voice came from the doorway.

Heero blinked trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness of the room. Quatre was sitting up in his bed, having been awakened by Wufei's rude entrance.

Both men were staring at Heero with open mouths.

It was then that Heero realized he was pointing his gun at thin air, his finger completely depressing the trigger. The safety was still locked, keeping Heero from shooting a hole in the wall at the foot of his bed.

"You startled me, Wufei." Heero growled, dropping the gun and throwing a glare at the other Asian man.

"Running on a hair-trigger, Yuy?" Wufei raised an eyebrow at the man before returning his attention to both Quatre and Heero.

"We just got a call from Une. There have been two more sightings of Duo. One was just earlier today here in DC."


End file.
